First Kisses
by badstorieswrittenbyme
Summary: Slash- Sam won't come to tea anymore and Frodo is worried. Cute, fluffy. I mostly wrote this as an exersize in Sam POV. Tell me what you think...


First Kisses 

Pairing: *gasp* Sam/Frodo

Rating: PG 13 (some kissing and pervy thoughts, no real getting down to business) 

Sam POV, fluff and cutey angst

Slash fic dedicated to Manda-chan. Here's your darn fic, now get off my back you pervy hobbit fancier! (The Pippin reference is just for you, btw)

Also dedicated to my vending machine Lord of the Rings bust collection, which gave me the hottest Sam bust ever (inspiration) and to Mountain Dew Code Red (my drug of choice). 

I do not own Sam or Frodo. Tolkien does, but he's dead so technically his estate does. 

I am simply paying homage to his wonderful creation so please don't sue me. 

I remember the first time Master Frodo kissed me. It was winter, one of the coldest ones I could remember. I was spending the night at Bag End, for all my Gaffer would say later about it. I didn't care. It was snowing outside, and I didn't dare to try and make it home that late. I was just a little hobbit then, bright and young and very innocent. I was sleeping in one of the many guestrooms there. Or rather trying to, because late in the night I woke up straight away, sitting up in my bed. I heard a noise. A soft mewling kind of noise, like my baby sister Marigold. I got up from my bed and tiptoed to the source, berating myself the whole time for being so nosy. It wasn't my place, but I wanted to see. It led to Mister Frodo's room where I quietly knocked. He let me in, looking like someone who's just had a good cry. An embarrassing thing at any age, but more so for Frodo, twenty-six and close to coming of age. He wiped at his eyes and let me in. I asked him what was wrong and he stared at the floor, said it was just a bit of loneliness, and that he'd be fine. 

I didn't know…what to do. I wanted to comfort him. But I didn't know how to do it any other way than the way I comforted my sister when she'd cry, or my mum. I scrambled onto his lap and put my arms around his neck, ignoring the (large) part of me that told me what I was doing was naughty and bad and "overly familiar" as the Gaffer would say. I stroked his back with my little hands and mumbled nonsense into his neck and rocked our bodies together. It felt good, and I could feel Frodo smile into my hair, but even more than those I heard my fathers words about those wealthier than us, that we should stay proper and not get too familiar with our betters. 

Almost as soon as I had started, I stopped touching Frodo, climbed off him blushing and wringing my hands. Apologized for overstepping my bounds and tried to leave, telling him I hoped he'd feel better, but he caught me by the collar of my nightshirt, his really, a castoff that he'd outgrown. Pulled me in close to his side ran his thumb down the side of my face. "Samwise Gamgee." He'd said. "You are just about the sweetest thing alive." 

And then he kissed me, just once, soft on my forehead. And my heart began to pound, and I was sure he could hear the bomp, bomp, bomp noise it made. And I tried to say something but couldn't and he understood and lead me back to my room, tucking me under the covers like my mum used to. And then he kissed each of my cheeks. Mister Frodo stared at me with sky-blue eyes and said.

"Don't ever be sorry, ok, my boy? You're my Sam and I'm glad of it." Left with another kiss to my forehead that tingled. And my heart raced all night long just thinking of it. 

I remember the first time Frodo really kissed me. I was much older then, had my wits about me. I was spending even more of my time with Frodo, taking care of him and Bilbo, who wasn't getting any younger. My Gaffer got off my back about the entire affair stopped warning me about staying in my place. I knew my place well by then, even if Mister Frodo didn't. Always inviting me to tea he was, same as if I was some Brandybuck for a visit. Same as if I was a guest, but I certainly wasn't that. Sweaty, and sun-brown, dirt under my fingernails and he invited me in for lemon muffins or such things. I always said "no thank you Mister Frodo sir", polite like my da taught he, and me always said "Maybe tomorrow" and kept on asking me. 

On that particular day, it was very hot indeed, the sun just pouring out on the plants. I had a double watering load that day 'cause Gaffer was ill in bed. I worked from sunup to sundown, stopping only to eat. Frodo offered to help me, but I wouldn't let him get that pure white skin dirty out in that heat. I didn't tell him that though, just told him that I could handle everything and that I'd be fine. The sun beat down and down, just bakin' me.

By the time my work was done for the day, I felt about ready to drop. Mister Frodo invited me in for a cool drink and a bit of a rest and before I could stop myself I was following him right into Bag End. He sat me down at the wooden table there and I must've truly looked a sight because he offered me a wash-up in his own copper tub. I tried to tell him I needed no such thing and he wrinkled up his nose, looking for all rights like a child who's walked past a pig sye. I got his point directly and rushed to the bathing room, so ashamed of my condition I couldn't even meet his eye. 

Not that it was all that uncommon in those days. I was finding it very difficult to look at Mister Frodo with out feelin' my cheeks get hot, or my throat catching. I was too young to know what exactly that meant, but I knew it wasn't good. Normal hobbits didn't get that feeling from other male hobbits, or from those who were cleaner and smarter, and so lovely it almost made your heart hurt to look at them. I was undressing, and thinking those terribly confusing things about Mister Frodo when he popped his head in the door, bringing me a kettle of hot water. He didn't even look embarrassed to see me like that, half-dressed and filthy. Smiled and told me that he was fixing supper. I tried to protest then, but he grabbed my clothing off the floor, telling me he wasn't giving my clothes back till I ate something. And unless I wanted to walk home naked as the day I was born, I really had no choice. He left then, mumbling to himself about "Gamgees as stubborn as rocks."

I got out of the tub as soon as I scrubbed most of the dirt off. I wiped the copper tub dry and clean, figuring there was no reason to leave a mess for Mister Frodo to clean later.

He must have crept in sometime while I was washing, because when I looked to the door, unsure of how I was to get my clothes back, I saw a set of replacements hanging on the door handle. They must've been a set of Bilbo's own, finer than anything I'd ever worn before. The blue shirt was so soft it felt like nothing at all. I fussed in front of the bit of mirror that hung on back of the door, trying to get my hair to lay straight. I remember thinking I looked like a fool, like a little child pretending to be a grown hobbit. I wondered if Frodo would notice.

He knocked then and cracked the door then, nearly hitting me with the edge. I jumped and he grinned and pulled me by the hand down the hall.

"I know my cooking can't compare at all to yours, Mister Gamgee," he said, laughing. "But I've done my best, and you're to eat as much as you can hold, for I've made enough for a dozen hungry hobbits." 

He looked so cheerful like that, all clean and golden in the firelight that I could barely breathe, let alone think. 

"A dozen, or a maybe a midnight snack for those two cousins of yours…" I said nervously. "I think I've see Master Pip eat his own weight in pudding, when he can get it." 

Frodo squeezed my hand and I was glad of the kitchen bench as my knees went wobbly. 

He served me the stew he'd made, lumpy and filled with mushrooms. I still remember the taste of that food, and the way he watched me eat, barely picking at his own plate. 

"I like to watch you eat something I made." he said, almost to himself. "Makes me feel not so useless after all." 

I twitched and took another big spoonful into my mouth, swallowing hard. 

"Mister Frodo, you're not useless! You're the smartest lad in the shire, a real learned gentlehobbit. You take care of Bilbo. You're all the girls talk about. You're…a kind man and I'm proud to know you." I finish off my silly speech with a firm nod, and even though it's all true, I feel foolish, takin' an off hand comment so seriously and all. 

Frodo smiled one of his smiles at me, the ones that start in his eyes. 

"I thought you hated me, Sam," he said lightly. "Or I'm a worse cook than I feared, since you never want to come in to tea anymore. But surely, even I couldn't ruin tea."

And he'd gone and got the wrong impression again and I felt my face grow hot as I tried to explain. 

"It's not that, sir, not at all. I want to come to tea…but I…" He face grew more serious as he watched me getting upset, my hands grasping onto the edge of the tablecloth restlessly. "I always feel like I'm bothering you, getting' Bag End all dirty and puttin' you out. What with making like I was company and all. I don't want to be trouble."

Frodo reached out and gently removed my hands from the cloth. He took my brown rough hands in his white ones and cupped them there. 

"Listen to me, Samwise and you'd better listen close. You could never be a bother to me, never make me unhappy with your presence. As a matter of fact, I've been most unhappy with out having you here each day. You are like…sunshine to me. Understand?" 

I nodded, eyes locked into his.

" I've always considered you a dear friend, and hoped you considered me the same…" he said and his voice was so sad I could barely stand it.

" Mister…Frodo." I said, clearing my throat. "Frodo?" 

He bit his lip and nodded for me to go on. "I consider you my dearest friend. I wish I could…say. I wish I could show you how I…how much I care about you. But. I'm not good with words and I can't…" 

Still locked into those baby blue eyes, eyes the color of water, of robin's eggs and forget-me-nots and the sky right after it rains. " What can't you do?" he asked in a whisper. Frodo leaned in closer. "Sam?" A lock of his hair fell over one eye. "Close you eyes." 

I closed my eyes and balled my hands up in my lap. My heart beat so hard I felt sure they could hear it all over Hobbiton. My breath came out in one long shudder, and still I kept my eyes closed. 

Suddenly, I felt the pad of Frodo's finger stroke my cheekbone. I caught my breath and he leaned closer and I could smell him, a mixture of pipe and cinnamon, stew and baking bread. I felt…his lips press against mine, felt his other hand reach up to hold my face. 

It was all over so quickly and before I knew it my eyes were open, and he was sitting across from me, looking to me as if I might hit him. 

"Did I…Was that what you couldn't do?" he asked quietly. "Or have I got it all wrong, and you'll be going home to your Gaffer with stories about dirty old hobbits who can't…keep their hands to themselves? Because if you do, my dear Sam, I can't say I'd blame you." 

I must've just stared at him for a long time because he got up, not looking at me.

"I'll get your clothes," he said, in a defeated sort of voice. "I…I'll find someone else to work the garden, send you off with good references. Anyone here would be lucky to have you." He was just leaving the kitchen when I came back to my senses, following him. 

I grabbed the tail of his shirt. "Frodo?" I said, dropping the Mister for once.

" I couldn't ever…do that." He watched my face hopefully. "But I…I've always wanted to." He grabbed me 'round the waist. "My Sam" he said, grinning against my neck. 

He walked me home that night, holding my hand in his as if he was afraid I would disappear. And when we reached my front door, I squeezed his hand hard and looked at him and he was smiling that smile that starts in his eyes. And even though I couldn't say a word, he knew, and I knew, and I told myslef I'd be his sunshine as long as he'd let me. 

The End 

(Amanda- This is worth much more than 80 cents. You owe me at least….a buck fifty for this little gem. Youse knows ya likes the fluffiness…)


End file.
